Berner's House

Lucy Bostock

She scorns me for looking for 
confirmation of a love that is always there
but I need it like a petulant child
She caresses the essence of me
with her gentle stare
Berner's House. Pink sickly plush cush
When they saw me as your inevitable sister
And I grumbled because
they wouldn't let me play the piano
Which sat on the equally sick pink carpet
You paid. I cried
I shouted like I didn't know what to do
Like it was all your doing
Poor you. I never wanted you
to want me to stay
You didn't.
I wanted you to want the cigarettes I bought.
You ate an early breakfast on your own. In peace.

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Panic! Poets

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